Letting himself go
by TheCatInTheShadows
Summary: The case took a bad turn. Small John-whump fic.
1. Stars above the dark alley

_One._

_Two._

_Three…_

Whether there had been a third hit? Was the knife hit him the third time?

_That bitch…_

He couldn't say, couldn't think because the pain in his back, and in his lungs, and he was tired because the blood loss and he was trembling, and he just tried to walk forward.

Slowly.

So slowly because his feet barely hold him up anymore.

_Sherlock._

The alley was dark and his fingers scratch the cold walls, trying to keep him up and go.

_Forward._

_Go forward._

_Always forward._

_Don't look back._

_Sherlock, where are you? _

God he was tired and he stopped and the knees bend and he fell forward, always forward, and his fingers left the bloodline to the wall. He leaned against it, seeking its coldness against his too hot skin.

There was iron in his mouth and it was hard to breathe.

_Breathe. Just breathe. _

But he just cough, leaning forward, falling forward, until his forehead was against the dirty ground.

His eyes closed.

The blood dripped from his mouth to the ground.

There was nothing put pain in his entire body.

Burning pain.

He cried.

"Sher… lock…"

He hoped.

He prayed.

"Go..d… let him be safe…"

He fell on his side and the pain was too bright light behind his eyes and he gasped to breathe, but he couldn't.

He couldn't breathe anymore.

And he opened the eyes, turned his head and watched the stars above the dark alley of London City.

Trembling stopped.

He stopped fighting.

His eyes stared the stars and the neon lights.

And he let himself go.

Go under the deep water, into the darkness where didn't had pain, no heart beats, nothing.


	2. Don't you dare to leave me here alone

Damn it hurt when he dragged his leg through the rooms, searching and searching.

"Sherlock, let them see that wound…"

But Sherlock ignored Lestrade thinking only that he had to find that dreadful woman before…

He stopped when he saw her.

Lying on the ground.

He kneeled and felt the pulse.

Nothing.

Dead.

She was dead.

Killed with a knife through her heart.

But her hands were also bloodied, not by her own blood. Someone who knew what to do had brought the death to the woman with a blink of eye. So why the blood in hands?

"John…"

And he saw the line of blood.

Following them out of the hallway back to outside, into the dark alley. He rushed forward, following trails, forgetting the pain in his leg, not seeing anything else. Not that Lestrade was running after him followed by Donovan, calling him.

"John!"

He couldn't hear answer.

"JOHN!"

The sigh stopped him.

"Oh no…"

He lunged forward, kneeling beside his friend.

"No…"

The eyes looked so dark, he couldn't feel the pulse, and on the ground was too much blood.

"No John, you don't leave me here alone."

His hands pushed the chest to try the heart to beat again.

"Hear me you damn idiot… You. Don't. Leave. Me. Here. Alone."

And he pushed and pushed with all his power and his lips touched the lips giving a breath of life to his friend.

"Don't leave. Don't you dare to leave!"

Sherlock have never felt so angry and he screamed when he was pushed away when the paramedics arrived.

"JOHN! Let me go!"

But his leg gave up and he slumped to the ground and he silently watched how John was threated.

"Don't let yourself go, John. Please." He prayed.

And soon John was carried away and vaguely Sherlock knew that somehow John was still alive, but how long.

"Come. Let's see your leg. We go same hospital than he. Come now. Sherlock." Lestrade helped his friend to stand and to the other ambulance.


	3. Waiting and waiting

Mycroft waited.

Patiently.

With resignation.

How many times he had picked up his brother from the hospitals. How many times he had waited him here.

When John had came along, some of his worry had melted away in due the time.

But now.

John.

Mycroft turned to look when he saw Lestarde coming in.

"Nothing yet?"

"They have to do some surgery to the leg, but otherwise Sherlock is alright. John on the other hand, no news."

"No news, good news." Lestrade sat and rubbed his eyes.

"Maybe. I hope so."

And then he was called in, Sherlock was waking up.

Mycroft sat beside the bad and watched his brother.

"My…"

"No news yet brother mine." Mycroft took the offered hand and felt the tremor.

"I can't lose him." Sherlock whispered.

"He doesn't leave you."

"He was gone when I came."

Mycroft have to turn his eyes away. He couldn't face his terrified brother. He couldn't think what it would be if John died. What Sherlock would do?

They fell in silence, waiting.

Until the door opened and the doctor came in.

"You were listed his next of kin Mr Holmes." The doctor looked Sherlock who nodded hiding his feelings away. But he couldn't open his mouth and ask.

"He's alive."

"But?"

"We lost him three times. Loss of blood and the damage of the knife. It'll take time to recover."

"But he'll survive?"

"Yes. He seems bit stubborn. So, I say yes."

"That he is." Sherlock smiled and slumped back to the bed hiding his face and Mycroft nodded to the doctor that they would took their leave for a moment.

John was still in unconscious and drugged, but he was alive.

Next two days went slowly and Sherlock sat with John, speaking with low voice.

Mycroft took care that Sherlock could stay with him no matter the time.

And after two days John woke up.


	4. Let me hear you

Slowly the voices and the lights were back.

_John, don't let yourself go, please, come back, I need you._

But it had been safe. Warm and dark world where he didn't need to worry anything.

_John!_

Someone was calling him.

That low annoying voice was calling him and he just wanted it to shut.

_Wake up. Two days John, it's already two days. If you leave me waiting…_

How annoying that man could be!

"Shut… up… Sherlock."

"So, back in the living land huh?"

John opened his eyes and looked his friend's happy face. "Welcome back John."

"Thanks. I… think."

John tried to focus his eyes and look around but he couldn't but shut them again.

"The doctor is coming John. Just rest now. You have long way ahead before you're healthy again."

"And… You?"

"Week and I can walk again."

"Leg… wound?"

"Yes. Nothing too serious. But you, you scared the hell out of me John. Never again, hear me?" Sherlock voice was now serious and John stirred his eyes open.

"I let myself go." He admitted. Sherlock leaned forward, studied his friend seriously.

"I know. And I hated it. Hated it what it did to me John. Never again you're not allowed to do that. You don't leave me behind. I can't… I just can't... Not anymore John." He shook his head.

And John smiled.

"Never again."

Sherlock sighed and leaned back to his chair.

"Good. Do you know how hideous these hospital foods are? And the tea? I can't believe how you…"

And Sherlock went on and on and John listened.

And John let himself go, but not so deep this time.

He was there where he could still hear Sherlock's ranting, hear his narky voice and irritation.

Yes, this place was better even though sometimes it was cold place to live.


End file.
